Unspoken Rules
by Zofie C. Field
Summary: It's absurd. But he descends the stairs every day with bourbon in hand.
1. Unspoken Rules

**Unspoken Rules**

He knows it's absurd. Absolutely ridiculous. Criminal, really. But he throws himself towards it, lets it engulf him whole.

They don't talk about it. They don't tell anyone. He doesn't blush when he walks in the room with law enforcement in tow. He doesn't avert his gaze as they perform their show of threats bitter banter. And she doesn't use it as ammunition against him.

They try not to think about it.

She's a terrible person. She's mowed down everyone in her path, committed heinous crimes. He knows this. But he's not exactly a saint either.

_A beautiful animal in a cage_, he thinks. But then corrects himself. She's captive, yes, but so is he, utterly captive. Captivated.

He descends the stairs, day after day, armed with bourbon and mason jars. By now he knows how she likes her grilled cheese (provolone, grilled extra dark). He knows that though she will complain when he brings her oatmeal with cranberries and pecans, she will scrape the bowl clean with her fingers.

He expects it to feel wrong eventually. He expects the absurdity to sink in. But every day, he descends the stairs with the same feeling in his gut. The buzz of excitement. That longing.

What would he say if Nathan found out? If Audrey caught the flash of familiarity that passes across their faces as they fight? _I didn't see it coming_. A lie.

He kissed her first. Quick and unexpected. And she laughed, laughed right in his face.

But the laugh caught in her throat as she pushed up to meet him again. Also unexpected.

She's probably using him. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, as they say. He's probably using her, too. And it doesn't give them pause.

He never unlocks her handcuffs. Never crosses that line. Not because he doesn't trust her. Because he doesn't trust himself. He doesn't know if he could stop, if he could keep her at arms length when she isn't bound there by chains. The game is far too dangerous as it is.

And she doesn't ever ask. Not because she thinks he'll say no. But because she doesn't trust herself to run like hell when the lock clicks open. She's afraid she'd stay.

It's one of the odd unspoken rules of this delicate balance they have struck. The pull is too insistent. The want is too profound.

The handcuffs remain to maintain their rouse. This is fine. This is normal. This won't end in blood and tears.


	2. Come What May

He unlocked her chains one night, well after dark. He did it because of Audrey and Nathan, because of this damned unnatural town, because of the fast approaching and unavoidable end to this sad saga. He did it in weary anger.

He unlocked her chains one night, in silence, and he didn't look back. He didn't want to see what happened next. He didn't want to care.

And then she was gone.

He worked the night in a mindless daze, blind, sheltered behind the bar. Empty glass, tip the bottle, serve the drink, token witty banter. Taking no joy in it, he let the routine absorb him.

Until a flash of blonde flickered in the corner of his eye.

Anyone else would have assumed she was Audrey. No one else would have looked twice. But he new it was her in half a glance. The truth betrayed by the set of her shoulders and the way her fingers gripped the glass.

She had come back. Or never left. Hours had passed since the click of the lock. Hours to run under cover of darkness. Hours to take merciless revenge.

But she was here. Here, at the end of his bar.

He forced himself not to look. The clink of glasses on wood seemed too loud. Every breath seemed to betray them.

He'd gotten away with so many things in the past, and never thought twice. Now, he couldn't shake the feeling that his luck would run out any moment, a moment too soon. That he would be too late. _Just give me this. Just give me this._ It pumps through him.

This isn't love. There's no way love is this foolish. This is some fashion of reckless abandon. Years of rash decisions and snubbed laws, too many heartbreaking losses, snowballing. Into her and him. Into this pull in his gut. Into needing to win, just this once, just for tonight.

This isn't a fairy tale romance. She's no princess, and he certainly isn't her knight in shining armor. There won't be a Happily Ever After. He knows this. And he doesn't care.

Tomorrow, everything will come crashing down. There will be hell to pay for the lock he opened. There will be hell to pay for the empty chains.

Hell he will gladly pay. Because there is tonight. Only tonight. He's stupid enough to ask for this, but not stupid enough to ask for more.

Slowly the noise filters out, leaving behind trays of empty glasses. Only when they are alone, doors locked and bolted, does he dare to meet her eyes.

Only tonight. Only tonight. Come what may.


End file.
